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Hillel Silverman, longtime rabbi whose congregant killed JFK’s assassin, is dead at 99
(JTA) — “If you want to know about my brother, Jack Ruby, you should talk to Hillel Silverman. He was our rabbi in Dallas for 10 years before President Kennedy’s assassination, and he knew Jack very well.”
It was 1976, and I had convinced Eva Rubenstein Grant — a loud woman with an even louder red wig — to appear on an ABC program to speak about her brother, who fatally shot John F. Kennedy’s alleged assassin Lee Harvey Oswald on live television 13 years earlier.
It was years, however, before I was able to speak to Rabbi Silverman, for a TV program I was producing about the JFK assassination. Our conversation in 1991 was the first of several chats we had about Ruby (and other topics) and the glancing role Silverman played in the national trauma surrounding the president’s murder. He was one of the last surviving witnesses who testified in 1964 before the Warren Commission, which investigated the assassination.
The Kennedy assassination was a relatively minor aspect of a 70-year career in the rabbinate, during which Silverman served as the founding rabbi of Congregation Shearith Israel in Dallas, and then as the senior rabbi at Sinai Temple in Los Angeles for 16 years, among other pulpits.
Silverman, the son of a prominent Conservative rabbi, died in Los Angeles this week of pneumonia at the age of 99. It was one month after he celebrated his birthday — and the birth of a great-grandson and the upcoming wedding of a grandchild — at Valley Beth Shalom in Los Angeles, where in his last official role he served as a visiting scholar.
Silverman was spiritual leader of Shearith Israel in Dallas from 1954 to 1964; Jack Ruby, a nightclub owner with links to the Mafia, was one of his congregants. Silverman told me in 2013, on the 50th anniversary of the Kennedy and Oswald murders, that Ruby would attend services to say Kaddish, the memorial prayer, for his father.
“He came to the minyan one day with a cast on his arm,” Silverman recalled. “I said, Jack, what happened? He said, ‘In my club, somebody was very raucous, and I was the bouncer.’”
Nov. 22, 1963, the day Oswald shot and killed Kennedy, was a Friday. Evening services at the synagogue “became a memorial service for the president,” Silverman said. “Jack was there. People were either irate or in tears, and Jack was neither. He came over and said, ‘Good Shabbos, rabbi. Thank you for visiting my sister Eva in the hospital last week.’ I thought that was rather peculiar.”
Two days later, Silverman switched on the radio and heard that a “Jack Rubenstein” had just killed the alleged assassin. The Warren Commission would later come to the still-disputed conclusion that Ruby acted alone — quashing rumors of a conspiracy — and shot Oswald on impulse and out of grief over Kennedy’s assassination.
“I was shocked. I visited him the next day in jail, and I said ‘Why, Jack, why?’ He said, ‘I did it for the American people.’”
I interrupted Silverman at that point, as I’d read other reports in which Ruby said he did it “to show that Jews had guts.” The rabbi sighed. “Yes, he mentioned that. But I don’t like to mention it. I think he said, ‘I did it for the Jewish people.’ But I’ve tried to wipe that statement from my mind.”
Silverman vividly described his weekly jailhouse visits to his now-notorious congregant, who was found guilty of murdering Oswald and who died in prison from lung cancer four years after the assassination. “In prison, Jack deteriorated psychologically,” Silverman recalled. “One time I walked in and he said, ‘Come on, rabbi, duck underneath the table. They’re pouring oil on the Jews and setting it on fire.’ He was quite psychotic.”
Jack Ruby, right, shoots Lee Harvey Oswald in Dallas, Nov. 25, 1963. (Dallas Times Herald)
Hillel Emanuel Silverman was born in Hartford, Connecticut, in 1924 to Althea, a prolific author, and Rabbi Morris Silverman, a prominent Conservative rabbi who edited the Shabbat and High Holiday prayer books used by the movement for more than half a century.
Hillel was ordained as a Conservative rabbi after graduating from Yale University. Following his service as a Navy chaplain during the Korean War, he led the congregations in Dallas and Los Angeles, and served 20 years as a spiritual leader of Temple Sholom in Greenwich, Connecticut.
He and his first wife Devora had three children: Gila Rutta, Dr. Sharon Pollock and Jonathan Silverman, the actor best known for films such as “Weekend at Bernie’s” and “Brighton Beach Memoirs.” He is survived by his wife of over 40 years, Roberta Silverman, his three children, three step-children (David Smotrich, Debbie Diamond and Arona Smotrich), 12 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.
Silverman wrote or co-edited a dozen books, and during a visit when he was 95 told me, “I think I still have one more in me.” He was the recipient of numerous awards, including a Medal of Honor from Israel’s then-Prime Minister Menachem Begin for his “distinguished service to Israel and the Jewish people.” He was past president of the Zionist Organization of America, Southwest Region.
In his 90s, he continued to officiate at High Holiday services in southern California, at times with one of his grandchildren, Rabbi Matt Rutta.
When the COVID pandemic shut down in-person classes, Silverman conducted weekly online Torah study sessions with Rabbi Ed Feinstein of Valley Beth Shalom synagogue. Sharp-eyed participants would notice a movie poster on the wall behind Silverman for “Weekend at Bernie’s II,” in which he appeared briefly as a restaurant maitre d’.
My final visit with Rabbi Silverman took place last October. He was in a wheelchair, living with his daughter Sharon and son-in-law Mark, and his mind and sense of humor remained as sharp as ever. Last month, I was thrilled to receive a birthday email from him, recalling our discussions about Ruby and wishing me continued success in my career. “Since I am thirty years ahead of you, I can guarantee many more productive, enjoyable years!” he wrote.
During his final hospitalization, a family member at his bedside asked about the rabbi’s former congregant one last time: Did Ruby have anything to do with a conspiracy?
The family shared a video of that moment with me, in which Silverman adjusts his oxygen mask, shakes his head and firmly says, “No!”
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The post Hillel Silverman, longtime rabbi whose congregant killed JFK’s assassin, is dead at 99 appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Board of Peace Members Have Pledged More Than $5 billion for Gaza, Trump Says
A drone view shows the destruction in a residential neighborhood, after the withdrawal of the Israeli forces from the area, amid a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, in Gaza City, October 21, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alkas/File Photo
US President Donald Trump said Board of Peace member states will announce at an upcoming meeting on Thursday a pledge of more than $5 billion for reconstruction and humanitarian efforts in Gaza.
In a post on Truth Social on Sunday, Trump wrote that member states have also committed thousands of personnel toward a U.N.-authorized stabilization force and local police in the Palestinian enclave.
The US president said Thursday’s gathering, the first official meeting of the group, will take place at the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace, which the State Department recently renamed after the president. Delegations from more than 20 countries, including heads of state, are expected to attend.
The board’s creation was endorsed by a United Nations Security Council resolution as part of the Trump administration’s plan to end the war between Israel and Palestinian Islamist group Hamas in Gaza.
Israel and Hamas agreed to the plan last year with a ceasefire officially taking effect in October, although both sides have accused each other repeatedly of violating the ceasefire. According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, more than 590 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli troops in the territory since the ceasefire began. Israel has said four of its soldiers have been killed by Palestinian militants in the same period.
While regional Middle East powers including Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Israel – as well as emerging nations such as Indonesia – have joined the board, global powers and traditional Western US allies have been more cautious.
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Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site
Along Britton Road in Rochester, New York, a brick gatehouse sits across from ordinary homes. Beyond it lies Britton Road Cemetery, its grounds divided into family plots and sections claimed over time by Orthodox congregations and fraternal associations, past and present. Names like Anshe Polen, Beth Hakneses Hachodosh, B’nai Israel, and various Jewish fraternal organizations are found here.
On the east side of the cemetery, a modest gray headstone draws visitors who do not personally know the man buried there, who were never taught his name in school, and who claim no personal connection to his life. Some leave notes. Some light candles in a small metal box set nearby. Others whisper prayers and stand for a moment before going. They come because they believe holiness can be found here.
The grave belongs to Rabbi Yechiel Meir Burgeman, a Polish-born teacher who died in 1938. He did not lead a major congregation or leave behind an institution that bears his name. And yet, nearly a century after his death, people still visit.
Over time, Burgeman has come to be remembered as a tzaddik nistar, a hidden righteous person, whose holiness is known through their teaching and daily life rather than through any title or position. His grave has become a place of intercession. People come to pray for healing, for help in times of uncertainty, and for the hope of marriage. What endures here is not an individual’s biography so much as a practice: the belief that a life lived with integrity can continue to shape devotion, even after the body has been laid to rest.
In life, Burgeman was not known as a miracle worker or a public figure. He was a melamed, a teacher of children, living plainly among other Jewish immigrants in Rochester’s Jewish center in the early decades of the 20th century. At one point, he was dismissed from a teaching post for refusing to soften his instruction. He later opened his own cheder, or schoolroom. There was no congregation to inherit his name, no institution to archive his papers. When he died, he was buried in an ordinary way at Britton Road Cemetery, one grave among many.
What followed was not immediate.
Remembered in return
The meaning attached to Burgeman’s resting place accumulated slowly. Stories began to circulate. People spoke of his kindness, his discipline, his integrity. Over time, visitors came. The grave became a place not of answers, but of belief. For generations, this turning toward the dead has taken this same form. It is not worship. It is proximity. A way of standing near those believed to have lived rightly, and asking that their merit might still matter.
In Jewish tradition, prayer at a grave is a reflection on those believed to have lived with righteousness, asking that their merit accompany the living in moments of need. Psalms are traditionally recited. Words are often spoken quietly.
I have done something similar too. Years ago, before I converted to Judaism and before I had the means to travel, I sent a written prayer through a Chabad service that delivers letters to the grave of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in New York. Someone else carried it. I cannot say with absolute certainty what happened because of it. Only that the practice itself made space for hope that I was seen, and that a prayer was later answered in ways that shaped my life and deepened my understanding of Judaism.
Burgeman’s grave functions in a similar register, though without any institutional frame. People come not because his name is widely known, but because the story has endured. Over time, that story gathered details. The most persistent involves a dog said to have escorted Jewish children to Burgeman’s cheder so they would not be harassed along the way by other youths. The dog then stood watch until they were ready to return home. The versions differ. Some are reverent. Some are playful. Some verge on the miraculous. The story endures because it names something children needed: care, in a world that could be frightening.
In recent decades, Burgeman’s afterlife has taken on a digital form. His name surfaces in comment threads and genealogical forums, passed along by people who never met him and are not always sure how they are connected. Spellings are debated. Dates are corrected. A descendant appears. A former student’s grandchild adds a fragment. Someone asks whether this is the same man their grandmother spoke of. No single account settles the matter. Instead, memory gathers. What once traveled by word of mouth now moves through hyperlinks.
The internet allows fragments to remain visible. Burgeman’s story survives not because it was officially recorded, but because enough people cared to remember it. In this way, his legacy resembles the man himself: quiet, unadorned, sustained by actions rather than declaration.
This story does not offer certainty. It is about remembering a life and asking if we might still learn from it and if, perhaps, it can bring us closer to faith. Burgeman left no grand monument. He left descendants. A grave. A life of Jewish values that continues to teach.
Burgeman did not seek recognition in life. After death, he became something else: a teacher still teaching, not through words, but through the way people continue to act on his memory. That is the lesson. Not any miracle. Not any legend. The quiet insistence that a life lived with integrity does not end when the casket is placed into the earth.
Some graves are instructions.
This one still asks something of us.
The post Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site appeared first on The Forward.
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Turkey Sends Drilling Ship to Somalia in Major Push for Energy Independence
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan speaks during a ceremony for the handover of new vehicles to the gendarmerie and police forces in Istanbul, Turkey, Nov. 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Murad Sezer
i24 News – Turkey has dispatched a drilling vessel to Somalia to begin offshore oil exploration, marking what officials describe as a historic step in Ankara’s drive to strengthen energy security and reduce reliance on imports.
Turkish Minister of Energy and Natural Resources Alparslan Bayraktar announced that the drilling ship Çagri Bey is set to sail from the port of Taşucu in southern Turkey, heading toward Somali territorial waters.
The vessel will pass through the Strait of Gibraltar and around the coast of southern Africa before reaching its destination, with drilling operations expected to begin in April or May.
Bayraktar described the mission as a “historic” milestone, saying it reflects Turkey’s long-term strategy to enhance national energy security and move closer to self-sufficiency.
The operation will be protected by the Turkish Naval Forces, which will deploy several naval units to secure both the vessel’s route and the drilling area in the Gulf of Aden and the Arabian Sea. The security arrangements fall under existing cooperation agreements between Ankara and Somalia.
The move aligns with a broader vision promoted by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, aimed at reducing Turkey’s dependence on foreign energy supplies, boosting domestic production, and shielding the economy from external pressures.
Bayraktar said Turkey is also working to double its natural gas output in the Black Sea this year, while continuing offshore exploration along its northern coastline. In parallel, Ankara is preparing to bring its first nuclear reactor online at the Akkuyu Nuclear Power Plant, which is expected to begin generating electricity soon and eventually supply about 10% of the country’s energy needs.
The current drilling effort is based on survey data collected last year and forms part of Ankara’s wider plan to expand its energy exploration activities both regionally and internationally.